A Game
- Kristina Moua
- Apr 17, 2018
- 1 min read
A sway of my palm,
signaling to be quiet.
Making our way through,
as if the ground was filled with
fallen leaves and broken twigs.
A train of siblings
following my light footsteps,
like armed, trained soldiers.
At a bent angle, we make
our way around the corner.
Like we are rounding
the trunk of a tree. Pitter-patters
of feet following.
I lead them through the simple
yet cluttered filled living room.
From behind me, I
hear screams and yells from the others.
Shouting, “RUN! HIDE!”
Everyone scattered and lost,
losing the others and me.
No leader to lead
and no place safe to hide ourselves.
It is a game over.
Time for the children to nap
and for me to rest my thoughts.